Friday, 7:08 a.m.
The front door slammed.
"Alex? You home, man?"
Elena froze in the hallway, Alex's cum still warm on her inner thigh.
She wore his t-shirt and nothing else.
He wore sweatpants and panic.
"Shit," he hissed. "That's Jake."
His best friend since kindergarten.
Unannounced.
Key under the mat.
"Kitchen," Alex called, voice cracking. "Give me a sec."
He shoved Elena toward the stairs.
She bolted, bare feet silent on carpet, heart hammering.
In the bedroom she yanked on leggings, wiped herself with trembling fingers, and listened.
Downstairs, Jake's laugh echoed.
"Place looks like a bomb hit it. You been living on pizza?"
"Power outage," Alex lied. "Mom's been… stressed."
Elena's stomach twisted.
She crept to the landing, peered through the banister.
Jake dropped a duffel by the couch (college logo, grass-stained cleats).
"Coach gave us the weekend off. Figured I'd crash here, save the drive. Cool?"
Alex hesitated.
Elena saw the moment he decided.
"Yeah. Cool."
She exhaled shakily, retreated to the bathroom, locked the door.
The mirror showed a stranger (lips swollen, hickeys peeking above the collar, eyes wild).
Her phone buzzed.
Mark: Landing 6pm. Surprise!
Two surprises in one day.
She splashed water on her face, practiced a smile.
Downstairs, the boys laughed at something on TV.
She descended in jeans and an oversized sweater (armor).
Jake looked up, grinned.
"Hey, Mrs. H. You look… glowing."
Heat flooded her cheeks.
"Power's back. Finally slept."
Alex's eyes flicked to her, dark with warning and want.
They ordered Chinese.
Elena sat between them on the couch, knees pressed tight.
Under the throw blanket, Alex's hand found her thigh (slow, deliberate circles).
Jake scrolled his phone, oblivious.
Every time he laughed, Alex's fingers crept higher.
When Jake got up for another beer, Alex leaned in.
"Bathroom. Now."
She waited thirty seconds, then slipped away.
The guest bath was tiny.
Alex crowded her against the sink, mouth on hers, hand sliding into her leggings.
"Quiet," he breathed.
Two fingers inside her, thumb on her clit.
She bit his shoulder to muffle the moan.
He brought her off in under a minute, swallowing her gasp.
Then he licked his fingers clean, eyes locked on hers.
"Mark's home tonight," she whispered.
"I know."
Back in the living room, Jake raised an eyebrow.
"You okay, Mrs. H? Face is red."
"Allergies," she said.
Alex smirked.
Dinner was torture.
Under the table, Alex's foot nudged hers (once, twice, a promise).
She nearly moaned into her soup.
Jake crashed early (jet lag, he claimed).
Alex waited until his door clicked shut, then dragged Elena to the laundry room.
"Been hard all day," he growled, pressing her against the washer.
"Thinking about you in this sweater. Nothing underneath."
There was nothing underneath.
He spun her, bent her over the warm machine, yanked leggings down.
Thrust in with one stroke.
The washer rocked.
She buried her face in a towel to stay quiet.
He fucked her fast, desperate (hand over her mouth, hips snapping).
When she came, it was with his teeth in her shoulder and his name a silent scream.
He pulled out, spun her again, lifted her onto the dryer.
Entered her slow this time, eyes on hers.
"Mine," he whispered.
"Even when he's here."
She nodded, tears pricking.
They cleaned up in silence.
Sheets in the wash (again).
Her lipstick scrubbed from his neck with a damp cloth.
At 6:47 p.m., headlights swept the driveway.
Mark.
Elena met him at the door, smile practiced.
Alex lingered in the hallway, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Mark hugged her (quick, distracted).
Clapped Alex on the back.
"Missed you guys."
Dinner was takeout reheated.
Conversation stilted.
Under the table, Alex's foot found hers again.
She didn't move away.
Later, in bed with Mark, she lay awake.
He snored within minutes (tiny, soft, over too quick if she'd let him try).
She stared at the ceiling, pussy aching from Alex, heart aching for him.
At 2:13 a.m., her phone buzzed under her pillow.
Alex: Basement. Now.
She slipped from bed, barefoot, silent.
He waited in the dark, arms open.
She went to him.
They didn't speak.
Just held each other among the warm, spinning sheets.
Saturday, 5:42 a.m.
Mark's suitcase wheels clicked down the driveway, swallowed by the pre-dawn dark.
Elena didn't watch from the porch this time.
She was already on her knees in the foyer, mouth full of her son, tears of gratitude streaking her cheeks.
Alex's fingers tangled in her hair (gentle, reverent).
He hadn't come yet; he was savoring.
"Seven days," she gasped when he pulled her off, stroking himself against her lips.
"Seven days of only us."
He nodded, eyes black with want.
"Starting now."
He lifted her (hands under her thighs, her back to the door) and carried her upstairs.
The house was theirs again.
They didn't bother with the bed.
He took her on the hallway runner, her nightgown rucked to her waist, his sweatpants around one ankle.
Slow, deep thrusts that dragged broken moans from her throat.
When he came, he stayed inside, forehead to hers.
"Love you," he whispered.
"Love you so much it scares me."
She kissed him through the aftershocks.
"Then let it scare us together."
They showered (really showered this time).
He washed her hair, massaged her scalp until she melted.
She shaved him, careful around the faint bruise her teeth had left.
Breakfast was pancakes and stolen kisses over the griddle.
He flipped them shirtless; she wore his hoodie and nothing else.
After, they made a plan.
Rules (written on the fridge whiteboard in Alex's neat block letters):
Mark calls = hands off.
Doors locked when we fuck.
No marks above the collar.
Condoms in the guest room (just in case).
Every night = her bed.
She added one in purple marker:
6. Tell me you love me every day.
He kissed the ink before it dried.
Monday, he drove her to the grocery store.
In the parking lot, he pulled her across the console and kissed her until the windows fogged.
Inside, they filled the cart like a couple (his hand on the small of her back, her fingers brushing his when they reached for the same peach).
At checkout, the cashier smiled.
"You two are adorable. Newlyweds?"
Elena flushed crimson.
Alex just grinned.
"Something like that."
Tuesday, they christened the kitchen island again.
Wednesday, the back porch at midnight (stars above, his mouth between her thighs).
Thursday, he woke her with his tongue, then fucked her slow while the coffee brewed downstairs.
Every night, he carried her to bed.
Every morning, she woke wrapped in him.
Friday, Mark texted:
Flight delayed. Home Sunday.
Alex read it over her shoulder, spun her, lifted her onto the counter.
"Two extra days," he said against her neck.
"Two extra days of you screaming my name."
She laughed (free, wild).
"Promise?"
He dropped to his knees.
Saturday, they drove to the lake house (two hours, windows down, her bare feet on the dash).
He fucked her on the dock at sunset, water lapping their thighs, her sundress bunched at her waist.
After, they lay on the warm wood, fingers laced.
"I'm never letting you go," he said.
"Not for college. Not for him. Not for anyone."
She turned, kissed his knuckles.
"Then don't."
Sunday morning, they packed slow.
One last time in the lake house bed (sheets twisted, sunlight striping their bodies).
On the drive home, she rested her head on his thigh, his hand in her hair.
Mark's flight landed at 6:03 p.m.
They pulled into the driveway at 5:57.
Alex killed the engine, turned to her.
"Seven days," he said.
"Seven days of knowing exactly who you belong to."
She leaned across, kissed him soft and slow.
"Seven days," she echoed.
"And every day after."
Inside, the house smelled of lake water and sex and them.
Mark's suitcase waited by the door (unclaimed).
They had twenty-three minutes.
Alex locked the front door, pressed her against it, and slid home one last time.
"Mine," he whispered with every thrust.
"Yours," she answered, coming apart in his arms.
When Mark's key turned in the lock at 6:20, they were in the kitchen (her stirring pasta, him setting the table, both flushed and glowing).
Mark hugged her, clapped Alex on the back.
"Missed you guys."
Elena smiled over his shoulder at her son.
"We missed you too."
Under the table that night, Alex's foot found hers.
She didn't move away.